The Matter of Life and Death
by P.S. Speare
Summary: As Crawford lays dying, he reflects on a life worth regretting... Warnings: Shounen ai, Language


The Matter of Life and Death

Note: The characters of Weiss Kreuz belong to their respective owners, not me!

The Matter of Life and Death

_Present..._

He could feel himself dying.Like fine powder passing through a sieve, Brad Crawford felt the blood flowing out of the wound in his abdomen, slowly trickling onto the muddied pavement of the alleyway, and stealing his life with it.He attempted to move his body, but it remained completely unresponsive, probably subdued by the inordinate amount of blood loss.Gritting his teeth against the pain, he forced his senses to awaken and take in his dismal surroundings.The night was not overly oppressive but still, dark, blurry shapes greeted his vision, reminding him that his glasses had been knocked off when he had fallen.The distant blaring of a car horn and the hustle of the city nightlife floated to his ears, but it was just that - distant.The stench of alley trash also assaulted his nose, intermingling with the heavy humidity that lingered in the air.All in all, he was dying in a deserted, dark, and dirty alley, alone and forgotten.

Crawford mentally laughed at the irony of the situation.Who would have thought that he, Brad Crawford, the precognitive leader of Schwarz and assassin extraordinaire, would end up dying from a stab wound meted out by a common mugger?He knew that Schuldich would definitely get a laugh out of it.Nagi and Farfarello may not find it as humourous but yes, this would undoubtedly amuse that arrogant redhead to no end, seeing how the great Brad Crawford had lived through political assassinations, numerous life-threatening missions, and even a supernatural summoning, only to be brought down by a common street thug.

An image of the telepath's mocking face flashed before him, glittering green eyes and smirking lips hiding the wicked deviousness of his mind.

Damn bastard.If it weren't for him, I wouldn't be in this mess…

"Hey, Mister!"

Crawford felt something or someone prod his shoulder.

"You shouldn't sleep here, Mister.It's gonna rain soon."

He couldn't make out the face but a small silhouette was squatting beside him, peering at him curiously through the darkness.A boy, probably homeless, he guessed.A conclusion reinforced by the petite size of the shadow and the high-pitched tone of the voice.

Brad opened his mouth to respond but found that he was even incapable of that.

"Look, I'm just being nice, Mister.I was looking for some food.I didn't have to stop, y'know."

Stupid kid!Didn't the boy see the blood?Then again, with the lack of light back here, it would be almost impossible to discern his blood from the other slime that littered the pavement; furthermore, the fact that he was lying on his stomach, and hence, the wound itself, didn't help any either.

"Well, don't say I didn't warn ya."Crawford heard the boy stand."I hate it when it rains 'cause I always get wet and cold," the boy muttered."Hmm, gotta look for a place to wait out the storm.See ya, Mister!"

And then, the boy was gone, leaving a heavy silence in his wake.Crawford closed his eyes for a moment, hating the sudden loneliness that seemed to invade his soul.

(***)

_20 years ago..._

"Let me out, Mama!Please, let me out!" the boy screamed as he banged his fists against the door.

"Please!"He felt the tears burning his eyes and marking trails down his face but he didn't care.He just wanted out of here, this dark place, this small place... this closet into which his mother had thrown him.He swallowed the growing panic rising within his chest, and banged some more."Please, Mama, please let me out!"His voice cracked and squeaked, revealing the desperation and helplessness that was slowly consuming him.

"Now, Bradley," he heard his mother's muffled but forceful voice say from the other side."You know why you're in there, don't you?"

Brad remained silent; yes, he knew why he was locked in here but that didn't mean what he had said was any less truthful.

"Don't you, Bradley?"Her voice had gotten slightly louder, anger weaving its way into the words.

"Yes, Mama..." he answered reluctantly.

"And why are you in there?"She sounded so...So superior, thought Brad, as if she was infallible and attempting to make a toddler understand the simplest fact.

"Answer me, Bradley.Why?"

He didn't want to answer, but if it meant getting out of this tiny, dark closet, he would have to.

"Be - because I - I'm evil, Mama.Because I shouldn't have seen the things I saw or said the things I said," he responded in a small voice.

"That's right, my dear," she encouraged."Now, you're staying in there until you fully understand your error and regret everything you said."She patted the door and started to walk away.The panic began to take over again and almost immediately, Brad was kicking and hitting the closet door, his screams echoing down the recently vacated hallway.

He knew she was gone now.He knew he would be trapped in here for quite some time.He knew that no one could hear his childish begging to be set free.But he screamed and hit regardless, because to not do so meant dealing with the quiet, dark oppressiveness of his current situation.

And thus, he continued to yell and hit, until fatigue began to set in, until his hands throbbed from the continued abuse, and until his voice was no more than a croak.Only then, when he had no energy left in his tiny body, did he stop and fall boneless to the ground.He pulled his knees to his chest and leaned his head tiredly against the locked door, vainly hoping to hear someone walk by although he knew better than that.

"Why won't you let me out, Mama," he asked in a quiet voice, his tone that of a very scared little boy."I know I'm evil, I know I'm bad...Why won't you let me out?I don't like it in here...It scares me, Mama."He was aware that his words would not be heard, but he needed to speak, he needed to break the dead silence that would descend if he didn't.And that scared him: the silence, the darkness, the inability to move more than a metre without hitting the wall.He hated it in here.He hated it whenever his mother felt it was necessary for him to be thrown in here.It was so small, so constricting, so...So much like a coffin.

"Mama, I didn't mean to say it out loud.But I saw it happen, just like it was happening in front of me.I saw you die, Mama.I did.I didn't want to see it but I did.And I thought I should tell you..." He took a deep breath and swallowed, hating how his visions had branded him into such an evil boy in the eyes of his parent."But Mama, why did you have to lock me in here again?I don't like it in here.Why, Mama...?"

(***)

_Present..._

Looking back, Crawford now understood the actions taken by his mother: she had been scared; frightened by something she couldn't explain and instinctively, had tried to hide it from sight.

Foolish woman.She deserved to die for being so easily frightened, so weak...

"Ehh, what's this?" A high squeaky voice of a woman, or rather, a teenage girl exclaimed.As she neared his inert form, he smelled the overwhelming scent of cheap perfume and heard the clicking of high heels - a prostitute.

"Bastard's had too much to drink, huh?"She giggled innoxiously and nudged him once with the toe of her stiletto heels.

You're probably none too sober yourself, thought Crawford, wanting to respond but found that he required all his energy just to breathe.

"'kay, well, you sleep it off, honey.I'm gonna go earn myself a living."More giggles and clicking soon faded as she walked away, once again leaving Crawford alone with his thoughts.And damn, how he hated that idea.

He could feel his body getting colder, slowly losing the warmth that represented his life in the blood that spilled ceaselessly onto the ground.It was sad really, feeling himself die bit by bit like this, hovering precariously on the fine line between life and death.Schuldich would have enjoyed watching the whole event.It was just the kind of thing that sadistic bastard relished.

Schuldich...

(***)

_6 years ago..._

"Holy shit!This place is fucking huge," the teenage redhead exclaimed as he made a three-sixty to take in the new apartment.Crawford watched silently as the newly acquired telepath ran around their new headquarters, ducking in and out of each room like a kid in an amusement park fun house.He took in the surroundings calmly himself: it wasn't too bad considering some of the places he'd been assigned to in the past.If anything, it was immaculate and cozy, with its small kitchen, living room, and three bedrooms.Yet he could imagine how this place must seem like a palace to Schuldich, whose lifestyle amounted to nothing more that a warm place to sleep at night.

Crawford caught a glimpse of fiery red scurrying into one of the bedrooms and smiled slightly as he moved into the sparsely furnished living room to take a look at the view.So this was what his life had come to: nothing more than a glorified babysitter for a telepathic prostitute.Crawford's smile turned a little bitter at the thought of the redhead's former occupation.The boy had no sense of self-worth, selling off his body every night and brushing it off as if it was nothing.If Brad didn't know any better, he would've surmised that Schuldich actually _enjoyed his job, although he had readily given it up when he was recruited._

A shuffling behind him prompted Crawford to turn around, only to see a decidedly wicked grin plastered on the redhead's face as he stood on the periphery of the living room.

Brad let out a long-suffering sigh."What now, Schuldich?"

"You should see the bed in there, Crawford.It's damn big.Just imagine what two people could do on it!"The boy sounded so excited that Brad actually raised an eyebrow, not requiring his precognitive abilities to know where this was heading.

Moving further into the room to join the older man, Schuldich looked upon Crawford with a predatory gleam in his jade green eyes.Before the American could escape, he wrapped his arms around the older man's neck and raised himself up to place a kiss straight on Crawford's lips.Schuldich didn't want for it to last too long, only for it to tease and taunt, thereby showing the cold man exactly what he was missing.True to form, Schuldich darted his tongue out, carefully laving his partner's lips and seeking entrance in but then quickly withdrew the temptation when he felt Crawford's stiff body begin to relax. 

"C'mon, Crawford.What's your poison?"The telepath asked huskily.He knew the older man was disgusted with what he did and would undoubtedly refuse any pleasure offered to him but that didn't deter the redhead any.What was life if one didn't take up its challenges?Seductive smile in place, he continued to tempt."I can trick, I can dominate, I can submit, or hell, if you want, I can go find my handcuffs.I'm sure if I looked hard enough, I'd find it in my luggage somewhere."Schuldich chuckled lightly."Mementoes of my trade I just can't seem to throw away."

Crawford continued to stare coldly at the redhead draped over him, his expression remaining implacable.Schuldich ignored the distain evident in the American's eyes, and enticingly rubbed his body against the older man's, causing a wave of heat to run through his own.

"I'd pick for you but you know I can't get through your shields.Anything you want.C'mon, what's it going to be, Brad-ley?"

It was the name that finally ruffled Crawford; no one, absolutely no one, had called him that since...Since her.

"Get off me, you filthy slut!"He shook Schuldich off abruptly, losing his calm composure and surprising the redhead enough for him to stumble backwards.Disgust and anger were clear in both the older man's tone and face.

Quickly concealing his look of hurt, Schuldich made a show of straightening his clothes as he tried to gather himself.Attempting to sound nonplussed, he gave Crawford a sly grin."Well, who'd want a cold fish like you anyways," the former prostitute asked rhetorically, turning around with his nose in the air and walking away as if he was royalty.

(***)

_Present..._

Crawford wanted to smile at the arrogance and cockiness he remembered in the teenage Schuldich.To be honest, the redhead hadn't changed much over the years: he was perhaps slightly more jaded and sadistic now, but he still retained the blatant disrespect for convention and the stubborn streak of self-assurance he'd had when he was younger.If there was one thing Crawford could admire about the telepath, it was his defiance of the rules and the willingness to live life by his own set, regardless of how he was perceived by others.

A pain in the ass is what he is...

"No, we shouldn't..." Crawford heard a female voice cut through the thick darkness and his thoughts.

"Please, I just want to talk to you alone for a minute."A man's voice.

"But we should head home," the woman replied, although her tone held little conviction.

"Come, Reiko, just for a minute."

Crawford could mentally picture the two at the end of the alley, the man perhaps pulling the woman away from the noisy street and into the quiet nook.

"Fine, but just for a minute," the woman acquiesced.

"You know you're safe with me."A pause."Reiko, we've known each other for four years now and..." Again, the man stopped, seemingly at a loss for words.

Incompetent idiot.If you need to say it, just say it!Crawford scolded silently.

"That is... uhh... This is harder than I thought.Reiko, will you...Will you marry me?"

As a response, Crawford heard something that resembled a choked sound.

"Of all the places to propose to me, you pick an alley!?How unromantic can you get, you idiot?"Her emotion-laden words sounded as if they were holding back tears.

"So is that a yes?"Anxiousness.Insecurity.

"Yes!A thousand times, yes!"Her enthusiastic answer was followed by silence, save for a few smacking noises.

Crawford could easily imagine what they were doing, and mentally smiled at their naiveté.

Such is the foolishness of young love.Don't they understand that love is an illusion?There is no such this as love, only lust...

(***)

_3 months ago..._

"You okay, Crawford?"

At first, Crawford didn't hear the German's question, too engrossed in his own thoughts as he sat and stared sightlessly at the far corner of his dimly lit bedroom.

"Crawford?"

Brad turned his head toward Schuldich's standing figure, registering his presence but not fully understanding the words.Could the telepath read his thoughts at the moment?Could he see how disturbed Schwarz's leader was after tonight's mission?Could he extract the unwanted memories their mission had brought back?Surely not.Brad had worked hard to perfect his shields against the German.He inwardly cursed the events of this past night.Why had Schwarz been forced to hide in such a small space to surprise their target?And why had it been so dark?Crawford thought he had done admirably well in maintaining his calm and collected exterior, and in keeping the overwhelming panic at bay but he was paying for it now.The memories were assaulting him with a vengeance.

/ "Be - because I - I'm evil, Mama..."/

Ignoring the small childlike voice in his head and the other man in the room, Crawford rose and moved purposefully to the mirror above his dresser.Methodically, he shrugged out of his suit jacket, removed his glasses, and loosened his tie.

"I know something's wrong, Crawford.I've become quite adept at reading you without telepathy since I can't seem to do so with it."

Crawford looked up in the mirror and saw Schuldich's slightly blurry reflection staring back at him.For once, the redhead's discernable gaze was devoid of its usual superiority and mockery.Oddly, Brad was entranced with the glittering eyes that watched him, eerily black and penetrating in his dark room.

/ "I know I'm evil.I know I'm bad..." /

Meeting the gaze of the German's reflection, Crawford asked, "We're evil, aren't we, Schuldich?"

The telepath seemed taken aback by the question but answered when he noticed Crawford's serious expression.

"If you're asking if we're the bad guys, then yeah, we always seem to get typecast as the evil ones."Schuldich said jokingly, but felt the lightness of the answer disappear when he caught the American's intense look.

"But I think it's all relative, Crawford.If you compare us to Weiss, then yes, we can't deny it."Schuldich paused, searching for the right words to express what he wanted to say next."But, before Schwarz, when I still lived on my own, I saw and lived so many kinds of evil on the streets that it would make even us look like saints now.I learned young that if you wanted to survive, if you wanted to stay at least partially sane, you had to become evil yourself and perhaps, even enjoy it a little.But that was how I lived and I didn't care what others thought of me.I was alive and that was all that mattered."

Schuldich continued to watch the mirror for Crawford's reaction, and yet the older man just stood there, impassive and unreadable.

"Do you want to tell me what's wrong?"The question was so uncharacteristic of Schuldich, full of concern and sincerity, but he was compelled to ask it, especially since Crawford was involved.The man was the only one Schuldich had never managed to manipulate and yet, he was still drawn to the American, despite the unforgotten fear of rejection he risked.

Finally, Crawford looked away, breaking their indirect staring match."Nothing.Now get out," the American ground out through clenched teeth.

Schuldich was intrigued and alarmed.In looking away first, Crawford had implied surrender and Brad Crawford never surrendered, no matter what kind of confrontation it was.The telepath took a tentative step toward Schwarz's leader, unsure of why he felt an urge to touch the man.

"What's wrong, Bradley?"

Before Schuldich could react, Crawford whipped around and landed a wicked right hook square on the side of his jaw, sending the redhead reeling.

"What the fuck was that..." Schuldich began to rub his face when Crawford suddenly lunged and tackled him to the ground.

"Don't ever call me that again!"

Schuldich looked up in bewilderment at the American's sudden loss of control.Never in all the time he had known Crawford had he ever seen the man behave so erratically.

"What?Bradley?" Schuldich asked innocently, knowing that he risked more violence, but for some reason, he wanted to see how Brad would react.The man needed to express himself once in a while; nobody could hold everything inside himself forever, not even the perfect Brad Crawford.

"Shut up! Shut the fuck up! "Another flurry of well-placed punches.Schuldich winced and did the best he could to block the hits but it was damn hard considering the other man had him pinned down.He shuddered mentally at the bruises he'd have tomorrow.

Soon, Crawford stopped.His dark hair was mussed, his eyes were wild and his breathing was heavy, making it the only sound to be heard in the quiet room.And oddly, Schuldich found him undeniably sexy.He knew he'd regret this later but he didn't care.Impulsively, the redhead raised his head and kissed Crawford hard on the lips, expecting to be pushed away almost immediately.But Crawford surprised him by responding, slowly and seductively prying open Schuldich's lips with his tongue.

Responding to his partner's request by opening his mouth, the telepath groaned pleasurably deep in his throat and wrapped an arm around Crawford's neck, effectively pulling the man down closer to the ground on top of him.His body was instinctively reacting to Brad, fire flowing through his veins and inevitably pooling in his groin.He had wanted this, needed this, desired this for six years.This was victory, was it not?He had wanted to shatter that mask of ice that the mighty leader of Schwarz wore and prove that underneath it was a hot-blooded human who yearned for the pleasures of the flesh like everyone else.And he had done it.

So it is a victory then, Schuldich thought as he undid the buttons on Crawford's shirt, all the while, returning his partner's demanding kisses.But if this is victory, why does it feel so hollow?

(***)

_Present..._

Crawford remembered that night vividly, every caress and every kiss; he had felt wonderfully alive that night despite the chaos of his thoughts.He hated to admit it, and especially not to Schuldich, but the arrogant redhead had learned his trade well, knowing exactly what he wanted, and how he liked to be touched without having to break through his mental shields.Perhaps that was what had kept Crawford going back for more in the ensuing months.Of course, he never initiated anything - no, that would contradict his icy exterior - but he had never refused whenever the telepath issued an invitation, which was quite often.The redhead seemed to have an insatiable sexual appetite and Crawford had found himself succumbing quite easily to the ex-prostitute's charms after having had a taste of it that first night.To put it simply, Schuldich was addicting.

A shuffling sound jolted Crawford from his self-reverie.At first, he thought it was perhaps an animal but when the stench of unwashed humanity and fermenting garbage assaulted his still working senses, he could only surmise it was a person.He counted himself lucky that he didn't possess the strength to gag or vomit.

He heard a bit more shuffling and the sound of cloth rubbing against cloth, leaving him with the impression that the person in question was rummaging through his expensive suit looking for a non-existent wallet.

Nothing but a beggar and a thief.There's nothing there, you fool.It was stolen long ago by the son of a bitch who stabbed me.

"Chh...Nothing but a worthless dead man," croaked an ancient voice as it began to move away.Crawford listened as the old man ambled further down the alley, grateful that the overwhelming stink had gone with him.And the silence descended once again, reminding him of his imminent trip into oblivion.

(***)

_5 hours ago..._

"C'mon, Crawford.Come out with me."Schuldich leaned over the back of the American's desk chair to nuzzle his lover's ear."You can't stay cooped up in here and read files all night."

Crawford remained silent as he tilted his head away from the annoying man and kept his attention on the papers in front of him."Go away, Schuldich."

But the German wouldn't take the hint and moved his head to work on Crawford's neck."Please...Bradley."Schuldich didn't know why he had used that name.Perhaps it was because he was a little masochistic or perhaps it was because he wanted to get a rise out of the usually collected Schwarz leader, but either way, he was certain to get some kind of reaction from his lover.The telepath braced himself as he felt Crawford's body stiffen.

Brad pushed his chair back and rose, causing Schuldich to step back in order to avoid getting his foot rolled over by the moving chair.Expecting an explosion like that first night they had slept together, the redhead was surprised at how calm the older man's words were.

"Look, just because we fuck each other doesn't give you the authority to order me about or manipulate me according to your wishes, Schuldich.I am Schwarz's leader, and you, you're nothing but its resident whore."

Normally, the German would have simply laughed at those words, or maybe even felt complimented, but for some reason, when they came from Crawford's mouth, they cut into him, and cut deep.Yet, he didn't betray his normally smug exterior, smiling coldly and shrugging off the insult as if it was nothing.

"But you can't deny the fact that you've enjoyed me in that role, Crawford," Schuldich taunted as he reached out with the intention of pulling the other man against his own body.

Crawford slapped his hand away."You're a slut, Schuldich.You were then, and you still are now.Let me tell you this, my attentive lover.You're nothing.You place no value on yourself, have no sense of self-worth, bartering out your body every night."The American's insulting tone descended heavily upon the redhead, who stared intently back, barely keeping his own thoughts from exploding."How many lovers have you had, Schuldich?How many nights have you actually spent alone in bed?"When the telepath didn't respond, Crawford continued."Like I said.A good for nothing whore."

The last word lingered in the room as Schuldich watched the older man stare accusingly at him.When it was apparent that Crawford was done, the German finally spoke, at last seeing the truth that had been in front of him all this time but hadn't been able to grasp until this moment.

"You may call me a whore, you may call me a slut, but at least when I die, Bradley, I can say that I've _lived._You, what can you say?You've been dead probably since before we met and I know you've never permitted yourself to really live for as long as I've known you.Cool and collected, that's Schwarz's Crawford.But that's all you are, isn't it, Bradley?That's all there is to you because everything that you were was somehow killed off long ago.You've never truly lived, have you?What are you so afraid of that you shy away from anything remotely pleasurable?You're one fucking hypocrite in saying I have no sense of self-worth.How much value did you put in yourself when you gave up your own life without a fight?"Schuldich paused, reviewing his words to make sure he had said everything on his mind.Then, as an afterthought, "And for your information, I've only had one lover in the past three months, Bradley, and that's you."

Schuldich stopped, breathing deeply as he watched for a reaction from Crawford's stony expression.After what could have been an eternity, the American's lips moved into an empty smile.

"Fuck you, Schuldich," he said lowly and tonelessly.He then turned around and calmly walked out of the room, leaving the redhead standing alone and stunned by his desk.

(***)

_Present..._

He had run after that confrontation.Crawford couldn't recall the last time he had ever run away from anything but nevertheless, he had run.And for once, his precognitive abilities had failed him, neglecting to warn him of the danger he had run to.

It's all Schuldich's fault, Crawford thought.If the redhead's words hadn't been replaying themselves in his mind, he would have been more aware of his surroundings.If what Schuldich said hadn't been tainted with some truth, he would have been less distracted and seen the dark figure come at him with a knife.Truth?Did what the telepath say actually hold a smidgeon of truth in it?

A loud rumble of thunder finally gave way to the first drops of rain that had been threatening in the humid air.Crawford was completely numb now, oblivious of any pain in his body.Still, he heard the patter of raindrops hit the filthy pavement, its tempo a mocking contradiction to that of his slowing heartbeat.He knew he had lost a staggering amount of blood; too much of his life lay pooled with the rainwater on the pavement.He was alarmingly close to death.

/ "How much value did you put in yourself when you gave up your own life without a fight?"/

Schuldich's words echoed in his head as he closed his eyes once again, giving into the heaviness of his eyelids.Perhaps the telepath was right.Perhaps he had given up on the pleasures of life long ago.Perhaps unconsciously, he had learned that to live had meant making himself vulnerable to a pain he swore he'd never experience again.Perhaps he had died somewhere between that dark closet and the moment he had decided to leave a normal life behind.But he couldn't do anything about it now, could he?A little too late to realize that he'd missed out on truly living, wasn't it?

In the back of his mind, he heard Schuldich laughing at his stupidity.He imagined the redhead's look of self-importance at learning he'd been right.And lastly, he saw an image of the irritating man's dancing eyes sparkling with life as he, time and time again, defied convention.

/ "You should see the bed in there, Crawford...Just imagine the things two people could do on it!" /

/ "C'mon, Crawford, what's your poison? ... Anything you want..." /

/ "...you had to become evil yourself and perhaps even enjoy it a little...But that was how I lived... I was alive and that was all that mattered..." /

/ " ...at least when I die, Bradley, I can say that I've _lived..." /_

Crawford didn't know why Schuldich's voice intruded on his thoughts during his last moments of coherency but they did, obtrusive, annoying, and somehow, ringing true.

He couldn't seem to reopen his eyes now; there was just too much effort involved and so he resigned himself to the permanent darkness.He could feel the last bit of air leave his lungs that very moment, indicating that death hovered close at hand, but with his last breath, he managed to mutter words that had been left unsaid for far too long.

"I want to live, Schuldich.Teach me to live..."

(***)

"Life can only be understood backwards; but it must be lived forwards."

-Soren Kierkegaard, _Life_

(***)

End


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